Fate
by annajanewrites
Summary: SOA Prequel: Gemma and Clay decide JT's fate. I am very interested in their history before the timeline of the show starts, so this is a story of how the circumstances surrounding JT's death came to fruition. Kurt Sutter owns everything SOA - anything you do not recognize is my own creation. One-shot for now. Please R&R! Enjoy :)


An eerie silence filled the house, the kind of quiet synonymous with two o'clock in the morning. Gemma sat on her kitchen floor in the midst of the wreckage, ashing a joint right on the tile. Shards of broken glass coated with Cabernet from the bottle laid around her body. She had made a half-hearted attempt at collecting the pieces but stopped when the sharp edges sliced the pads of her fingers. Moonlight shining in through the window illuminated all the red, the red of the wine, the red of her blood. If anyone walked in right now, they would probably expect to find a dead body in the middle of the room.

But Gemma was alone; it was already an hour passed the time when John stormed out. Thank God Piney took Jax and Ope camping this weekend, she thought. She would never want her son to witness the violence that went on tonight between his mother and father.

Clay didn't even bother knocking; he walked directly into the kitchen through the back door. His eyes flitted wildly at all the damage before noticing a slumped Gemma on the floor.

"Jesus Christ," he said, immediately kneeling down in front of Gemma. He took her hands and examined the cuts, placing kisses on both palms. Upon further scrutiny, Clay noticed a large, puffy welt on Gemma's cheek, the unmistakable mark of a backhanded slap.

"Goddamnit, baby," he said as he stood back up, rage clearly consuming him. "That goddamn piece of shit!" Clay sent his fist flying into one of the cabinets. The sound of his knuckles cracking the wood reverberated throughout the house.

"Please," Gemma whispered as she slowly stood. "Just sit down."

His body was practically quivering with anger, but she nodded towards the kitchen table anyway, encouraging Clay to take a seat in the only chair standing. The other three had been knocked over. He quickly moved to turn one of them upright for Gemma but she grabbed his wrist to stop him, moving his body backward into the chair and positioning herself to stand between his legs. He closed his eyes as she ran her hands through his hair, finally letting them rest on his shoulders.

"Tell me what happened," he said, calmer now.

"Yeah," Gemma said. "John came here earlier, said he wanted to talk. I told him there was nothin' left to say, that I already knew about his Irish whore. Told him he wrecked this marriage a long time ago by being such a shit father to my Tommy and Jax and that I wanted nothing more to do with him. And that's when he told me his plan."

"Plan to do what?" Clay asked, his body tensing underneath Gemma's blood-spattered fingertips.

Gemma hesitated, struggling to get the words out. He reached up to grip her hands.

"He threatened to take Jax, Clay," she said. "Said he doesn't want this life for his one remaining son and he doesn't care what he has to do, he's getting the hell out of Charming and taking Jax with him to Ireland."

Gemma watched Clay's blue eyes glaze over in agony for her. He knew John's words were like death. There was no one who mattered more to Gemma than her son.

"So," she continued, letting go of Clay's hands to pace a few steps around the room, "I told him over my dead body. He'll never take my son from me. And that's when all this happened," she said, referring to the kitchen carnage. "I just lost it. Tried to smash the wine bottle over his head. I missed and he just started ripping this shit apart, breaking my damn chairs. He's out of his mind, Clay."

Clay shook his head in disbelief. "You don't know the half of it, Gem," he said.

Gemma stopped pacing and leaned her body against the wall.

"What do you mean?" she asked quietly.

Clay leaned forward in his chair, elbows resting on his knees. "Right before you called me," he said, "Tig and I were at the table. He came to me earlier tonight talking about this bad feeling he had that shit was goin' sideways with JT. Said somethin' just didn't feel right at church lately. John's been bringing old shit up, things that have been done and buried for years. And the way he's been talking, it just seemed kinda off, him wanting to discuss all these _details_ of shit that is completely irrelevant."

"So?"

"So Tig kept insisting that the way he's actin' is a sign towards something else."

"Something else like what?"

"Like some kind of betrayal against the club."

Gemma quickly caught onto where Clay was headed. "Like John's a rat?" She shook her head. "Nah, he'd never rat on the club. He's the one who _founded_ Samcro."

"Exactly, that's what I thought. What the hell would push him to destroy the very thing he created? To turn on his brothers? Everyone already knows he wants to get us out of guns, but talking to the Feds... I just didn't see how he could be capable of that." Clay fell silent for a moment, lowered his eyes to the floor. "But then," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "I thought about you. About... about Thomas. And about what a piece of shit JT has been to his family. So maybe it makes sense. Maybe he's just turning his back on everything and everyone."

Clay sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair. Gemma barely moved a muscle, trying to process the information. Minutes passed in silence, both of them lost in thought.

"Shit," Gemma finally said. "Maybe Tig's right. Maybe John's been talking about old shit because he's got a wire on him or something."

"We don't know anything for sure yet."

"You have to kill him, Clay," Gemma deadpanned.

"C'mon, Gemma," he said as he rose to his feet, "This is just me telling you what's going on. Tig is sweeping the clubhouse, but right now we don't have shit besides a feeling. No proof of anything."

"I don't give a shit about proof," Gemma said as she walked towards him. "This isn't about how John may or may not be a rat. This is about my son and the fact that John is going to steal him from me unless I stop him. And the only way to do that," she whispered, "is to kill him."

They stood only inches apart from each other now, so close that their breaths coated each other's faces, Clay's heavy with strife, Gemma's strangely even and quiet.

"You're asking me," he said, "to kill JT, who is not only the president of Samcro, but the founder of the Sons. I mean, Jesus Christ, I'll be dead within an hour of the murder."

"Not if we make it look like an accident," Gemma said.

"An accident," Clay repeated slowly, feeling the shape of the word in his mouth.

"Look, baby," she said as she reached up to cradle his face in her hands. "You said it yourself that John probably ratted. Tig is already convinced. Hell, with all these trips he's been taking, and with the way he wants us out of the gun business, the club's most _lucrative_ business... those actions alone prove he's just not a good leader for Samcro anymore. And you always want to do what's best for the club, don't you?"

"Of course, baby, but-"

"The proof is there somewhere," Gemma interrupted. "We just don't have the time to find it. This needs to be done right away." Her hands dropped down to her sides as she eyed the floor. "I already lost one son," she said quietly. "I cannot risk losing another."

Clay stroked her long, dark hair. "No one is going to let that happen."

"You're the one who knows how to lead Samcro the right way," she said, brushing past his comment. "And as VP, you would be voted in as President."

"I know how it works, Gem."

"We both know you're meant to hold the gavel."

Clay's lips curved into a half-smile. "Well, I can't argue with that."

He continued to run his long fingers through her hair as she watched the weight of their conversation play out of his face.

"I love you," he murmured softly. "I know I haven't said that yet. And obviously," he said as he gently cupped her bruised cheek, "the timing is shit. But I really do, Gem."

Gemma wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek to his chest.

"With JT gone," she whispered, "You and I would be able to be together for real. No more hiding."

Clay rested his chin on top of her head, breathing into her hair.

"Don't overthink it, baby," she pleaded. "JT is poison to this club, poison to Jax, bailed on his dying son. This needs to be done. And when its over, we'll both have everything we need."

Clay took a step back to look Gemma in the eye, glass crunching underneath his boots.

"Yeah," he said hoarsely. "Okay."

"Okay," she repeated.

Their lips pressed together in the dark, sealing John's fate.


End file.
